A Journey To Far America

The sleepy begonias undulating slightly so undisturbed leaned forward to encourage and wish me good fortune, while the apricot trees spread around their strong aroma, a dazzling daylight was rising from the majestic mount; a soft voice rose from the next room, it was mamma calling me: I sprung from my bed in disorder without feeling grumpy, the alarm playing Mozart's sonata failed: pants and sweater were neatly ironed to enhance my figure! Saddened neighbors waited outside with teary and sad eyes, hugs were exchanged, my goodbye was intensely bitter and bleak; Lucy, the girl next door, came running and embraced me twice, " When you arrive in America, write me. I nodded, unable to speak. The Autmn's shadows persisted, fighting the invading light with clouds; each face I stared at reflected the profound sadness that stirred inside! I glanced at the calendar: September 11, the day of departure, fate set that date with my approval embarking me on that journey to far America: stripping me of childhood's joys with little reward. I departed from the house of my ancestors: a sturdy medieval castle built for a price who rode horses through forests with echoing sound: his name was never revealed, its a story dramatized with mystery.